


A Night in the Bunker

by elegantdalek



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bunker, M/M, Post Trial And Error, Samulet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-16
Updated: 2013-02-16
Packaged: 2017-11-29 12:39:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/687053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elegantdalek/pseuds/elegantdalek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean usually has some trouble sleeping without Sam in the same room as him. But the night after Sam completes the first task is different.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Night in the Bunker

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place the night after 8.14 Trial and Error

Dean doesn't have trouble falling asleep. Years - well, basically his entire life - of living on the road taught him well. He's been known to fall asleep in diners and bars and once, memorably, sitting on the toilet. Sam didn't let him live that down for a long time.

The overwhelming majority of the times Dean has fallen asleep have been within ten feet of his brother. Obviously there was Stanford and the year with Lisa and the year in purgatory, not to mention the countless times when he and Sam have been separated for one reason or another. But nevertheless, Dean is very used to falling asleep with Sam in the same room, listening to Sam's breathing slow down along with his own.

Sometimes he revels in the times he gets to sleep alone. He looks forward to nighttime and falling asleep to silence. But these are also usually the nights that it takes Dean longer to fall asleep. Sam's slightly heavy breathing is annoying, but it also means he's safe. Not hearing it messes with Dean's brain. Sam, of course, would make fun of him if he admitted it, so he doesn't. It rarely happens, anyways. Sam and Dean almost never hunt separately.

But now they have the bunker. It's freaking awesome and Dean is already completely emotionally invested. He's never been able to decorate his own room before and he enjoys picking out the guns and records to display. Dean tries to get Sam to decorate his room as well, but all he does is drag up half a bookshelf and a lamp. The place feels like home and Dean hates to leave it, but he also looks forward to the nights away. He hasn't been getting enough sleep with Sam an entire room away. Dean usually cleans guns when he can't sleep.

But the first night back after Sam completes the first task is difficult. He’s worried about Sam, about how he will fare completing the tasks. But mostly Dean can't stop thinking about his brother and what he said. He lays awake for more than two hours staring at the ceiling before getting out of bed and making his way down the hall.

Sam's door is cracked open and Dean pushes the frame slightly and steps inside. There was one double bed in the bunker and Dean fought Sam halfheartedly for it. Sam is much bigger, anyways, so the bed is his. Dean always feels a little bit small and lost in them anyways.

Dean gazes upon his brother in the faint light reaching its way up from the light left on downstairs. But after a second Sam sits straight up with a knife in his hand. "Sammy, it's me," Dean says softly and Sam's frame relaxes and he lowers the knife.

"What are you doing, Dean?" Sam asks, putting the knife back under his pillow. Sam isn't wearing a shirt and Dean can see the outline of his muscles in the dim light. When did he start sleeping without a shirt? He's definitely never done that in any motel room.

"I can't sleep, Sam," Dean tells him, unable to stop the truth from coming out. It's always harder in the dark. Dean moves closer to Sam's bed and lets his hand trail along the edge of the mattress. The bed is pressed up to the wall and Sam is on the right side of the bed, furthest from the wall. When they stay in motels it's an unspoken rule that Sam gets the bed furthest from the door. And Sam always sleeps on the side closest to Dean. His heart jumps a little to see Sam doing the same here.

“Dean?” Sam asks, loudly, and Dean looks up into Sam’s eyes. He realizes he’d been staring at Sam’s bare chest. He clears his throat and looks at the wall.

“Look, can I…” Dean says, incapable of finishing the sentence. “It’s just too quiet, Sammy.” Dean tries to plead with his eyes. He can barely admit it to himself, but he really wants Sam to let him sleep here.

Of course Sam knows what he wants; he always knows. Sam slides over, wordlessly, towards the wall, and pushes the covers back. Dean gets in next to Sam and they lie down together as Sam pulls the covers back up over their bodies. The bed isn’t small at all, but Sam is pretty big and Dean’s not exactly a stick, so their shoulders touch under the sheets. Dean knows he could slide over a little and give Sam his space but he can feel the heat of Sam seeping through to his own body and he instantly relaxes and doesn’t move.

They are silent for a few minutes, both lying on their backs. Dean tries to calm his breathing. He and Sam have shared a bed many times before. Hell, up until Sam left him for Stanford they usually slept in the same bed. Sometimes it got weird when they started getting morning boners, but neither one ever complained enough for John to think about getting a second motel room. He’d growl at Dean to sleep on the floor if the bed was too damn small for him and Dean would inevitably stay with Sam. Being able to hear Sam breathe and know he was safe was what mattered. Sometimes Dean would wake up with his hand resting on Sam or his foot pressed up against Sam’s leg.

But Sam and Dean haven’t shared a bed in about ten years. Figuring out hell and purgatory and soulless years is complicated. Dean feels a lot older than his body looks.

Then Dean hears his name, a whisper on his brother’s lips, and he turns to look at Sam.

“Why are you here?”

Sam’s hair is falling into his face and Dean resists the urge to push it away. “Sammy,” Dean says, helpless. “Do you really believe in me?” The words are out of his mouth before he even realizes that’s what he wanted to say. Needed to ask.

“Dean,” Sam says, “Yes.” Dean’s eyes have adjusted to the low light and he can see the expression on Sam’s face, and it scares him. He knows he doesn’t deserve the love and admiration and trust and blind faith he has from Sam.

Suddenly looking at his brother is too much and Dean turns away, facing the rest of Sam’s room. He tries to calm his beating heart and looks around, focusing on the bookshelf next to the bed. There are a few books stacked on top next to an old fashioned lamp and Dean looks at the lamp closer, admiring the intricate shape. The back is different from the rest and he realizes something is hanging from the top, hidden from view everywhere in the room except for someone lying right where he is now. Something is familiar about it and Dean looks at it, curious, before it hits him.

Dean sits up abruptly, disrupting the covers. “Sam,” he says, putting both hands on Sam’s arm. “Is that my amulet?”

Sam’s eyes go wide and he sits up as well. “Dean,” he says, but Dean interrupts him.

“Sammy. Did you save my amulet?” Dean is insistent on knowing the answer. His hands are still on Sam.

“Of course I did, Dean.” Sam says softly. Dean stares into Sam’s eyes for a moment before turning back and reaching for the amulet hanging from the back of the lamp. It instantly feels familiar beneath his fingers. He turns it over a few times before putting it over his head. The slight weight against his chest is like an anvil.

“Why?” Dean asks.

Sam stares at the amulet resting against Dean’s chest, back where it belongs. “I couldn’t let you throw it away.”

“You kept it this whole time?”

“In my bag. I wanted to wear it but I didn’t want you to see.” Dean remembers Sam pulling the amulet out from under his shirt when he came back from hell. “Before I said yes to Lucifer I hid it in the Impala,” Sam says as an afterthought.

“Shit, Sammy,” Dean whispers. He runs his fingers over the shape. “Is it okay if I wear it again?” Dean can’t explain it, but he feels a lot calmer with the amulet resting around his neck.

“Yes. Please. I would have given it back to you to wear if you wanted it.” Sam can’t stop looking at it. He reaches his hand out like he wants to touch it, but stops. Dean grabs Sam’s wrist and pulls it the rest of the way to his chest. “I’ve missed seeing you wear it, Dean.”

The pressure of Sam’s hand again Dean’s chest is almost too much. He moves his hand from Sam’s wrist to over Sam’s hand and presses it against his heart. “I’m sorry I ever threw it away.” Dean forces himself to look at Sam and squeezes his hand. “Thank you for keeping it safe for me.”

“Dean –“ Sam starts to say, but Dean let’s go and Sam stops talking. They lie down, side by side, Dean with his hand over the amulet. He stares at the ceiling and thinks about his brother. He can’t believe Sam saved the amulet hidden away all this time. He’s never once mentioned it since that day they went to heaven. But he kept it. And now, here, in his own room for the first time in his life, the only personal thing he has displayed in his room is the amulet, hidden where he can only see it while lying in bed.

Dean remembers the Christmas when Sam gave it to him. It was the first time he realized that he was more of a father to Sam than their dad was. The first time he realized how much he meant to Sam and it scared him. He rarely took the amulet off. It became a sort of symbol to him of his promise to keep Sam safe.

Thinking back, Dean doesn’t know how he could have thrown it away. He was angry about Sam’s heaven, how he didn’t seem to care about Dean as much as Dean cared about Sam. It was an act of defiance, but he didn’t mean it, he never really meant it. He forced himself to forget about it, and when Sam jumped in the pit he wished he still had it. Ever since then things have been different between them. Of course Sam didn’t have a soul for a while, but even after that it felt different. Dean couldn’t forgive himself for symbolically throwing away Sam’s love, and he knew Sam wouldn’t even forgive him either.

But yesterday Sam said he believed in Dean. He told Dean that he was smart and a good hunter and deserved to have a good ending. Dean knows it’s not true, he knows he absolutely deserves an eternity in hell. But it’s hard to deny what Sam said when he seemed so genuine. Sam has always had this ability to see straight through Dean’s bullshit. And the fact that Sam kept the amulet, even hangs it up where it will be the last thing he sees before sleep is too much.

“Why?” Dean says suddenly, turning his body to face his brother. Sam is on his side as well, and has been looking at Dean.

“It means a lot to me, Dean,” Sam says.

“No,” Dean says, trying to explain himself. “Why do you believe in me? I’m not worth it.”

“Yes you are,” Sam whispers, putting his hand on Dean’s side. “I believe in you because you don’t believe in yourself. You deserve this, Dean. You deserve it as much as anyone.”

Dean surprises himself by suddenly leaning forward and pressing his lips to Sam’s. Sam is stunned for a second, but when Dean starts to pull away Sam puts his hand on Dean’s face and kisses him insistently.

“I love you, Dean,” Sam whispers against Dean’s lips. He runs his hand down Dean’s side.

Sam’s bare chest almost shines and Dean reaches out a hesitant hand. “Sammy,” Dean whimpers, “I’m not worth it. I’m a bad person.”

“So am I,” Sam tells him, kissing the side of Dean’s mouth. Dean frowns and starts to dispute him, but stops. Maybe Sam has a point. They’re both messed up. What else is there to do but trust in each other?

Maybe if Sam says it’s true he can believe it. Maybe he can believe in Sam. Dean kisses Sam, open mouthed, and surrenders himself to his brother’s love. 


End file.
